


When in Rome

by Daegaer



Series: Burning Rome [2]
Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: 1st Century CE, AU, Gen, Magic, Roman era, Rome - Freeform, Schwarz - Freeform, lost gods, psychic powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-31
Updated: 2007-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Making a new life for themselves in the capital of the Roman empire, four young men with strange powers begin their rise to wealth and influence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When in Rome

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 **  
**

|  Sesithacus looked gloomily at the doorway leading to the insula's stairway. The gods had never intended people to live on top of each other like this, he thought, trudging upwards. The smells of the neighbouring families' cooking mixed in with the general smell of wet dogs and people, making him yearn for fresh air and the scents of Germania. He shoved open the door at the top of the stairs and slumped in.   
---|---  
  
  
"I got bread," he said listlessly.

Across the room, Caratacus was huddled on the floor, wrapped in his cloak. Sanagi sat near him, staring in disinterest at the wall as if the stains and damp patches held some great secret.

"How is he?" Sesithacus asked.

"His head still aches and he is very tired," Caractacus said, shoving himself upright. "But he thinks he should eat something." He pulled the cloak tighter. "I'll be able to keep the bread down this time."

"Here," Sesithacus said, squatting down and holding out a loaf. "Small pieces," he said as Caratacus tore off a handful and looked at it with a mixture of resignation and disgust. Sesithacus sat back on his heels and looked around the room, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. He still hadn't got used to it being so short, and was contemptuously amused that Februus had been right about a barber wanting to buy it to make a bright wig for a Roman lady. "Where's Februus?" he asked.

"Out," Sanagi said as Caratactus shrugged and chewed silently. He slowly brought his gaze away from the wall to meet Sesitacus' eyes. "He said he was going to steal from the gods."

Sesithacus opened his mouth to say something and thought better of it. There was little point in discussing the affairs of madmen with a mad boy. He heaved himself upright and went to peer into the water jug. As he'd feared, there was barely any left. He tipped it up, then sighed and brought it over to Caratacus. "Here," he said. "It'll make the bread easier to eat."

"Thank you," Caratacus said politely.

"When are things going to get better?" Sesithacus said in annoyance. "We'd live well, you said. We'd have rich men pay for our food and lodging, you said. We're living in a stinking hovel, with no water in the damn jug because Sanagi's too damn good to walk down the street to the fountain!"

Sanagi gave him a cool look, then gestured minutely. The jug flew from Caratacus' hands to shatter against the wall. "There is no jug to be carried down the street," he said.

"You little bastard!" Sesithacus yelled, jumping up.

Sanagi smiled and stood slowly.

"Stop this!" Caratacus roared, throwing off his cloak and leaping between them. He groaned, clutching at his head, then fixing them both with a glare that seemed to Sesithacus sharp-sighted enough. "The gods have cast us together and we will not act like foolish children!"

"Say that to him," Sesithacus muttered. "He's the child around here."

"What gods brought me here, that I might dispute with them?" Sanagi said bitterly. "It is chance alone that I am here." He turned away, his shoulders drooping in dejection, and Sesithacus felt stupid to have become so angry with such a child.

"We're all unhappy," Caratacus said. "Now that I'm getting stronger we'll do better, you'll see."

"We need more food," Sesithacus said. "The bread in this city must be made of gold, it costs so much." He kept his worries that he had been cheated to himself, not wanting the others to laugh at him for being unused to coins. "Those grain ships that sank downriver have driven up the price," he said, hoping he sounded worldly and wise.

"Make people give you bread for nothing, then," Caratacus said, sitting down again with a wince. He wrapped his cloak around him again and rested his sweat-damp forehead on his drawn-up knees. "This fever will pass soon enough," he said as if to reassure himself.

"This is a filthy place," Sanagi said quietly, looking about as if he could see beyond the walls. He gestured and the shutters on the only window flew open, letting in some fresher air and a good deal of rain.

"You're used to better, no doubt?" Sesithacus said resentfully, stalking over and closing the shutters again. The purity of Sanagi's Latin probably meant he _was_ , he thought, and felt resentful of that as well.

Sanagi looked at him silently, then walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" Sesithacus said. He didn't much like the way Caratacus spoke of the gods and their plans, but things were as they were and he didn't want to be held responsible for driving Sanagi away.

"He needs water," Sanagi said, and left.

Sesithacus sat, and thought about what they needed. Blankets, he thought. Food other than bread. Beer. He rested his head back against the wall and thought longingly about the beer his village had brewed. He dozed lightly, waking only when the door opened again and Februus came in.

"What's that?" Sesithacus said sleepily.

"Half a lamb," Februus said, holding out his bloody burden.

"Where did you get that?" Sesithacus said in annoyance. "Sanagi said you'd gone to rob the gods."

"I did. I got this in a shrine," Februus said. "A pity there wasn't more."

"You actually stole from a shrine? Caratacus spends his time telling us the gods have work for us and you steal from them?"

"It was only a small shrine," Februus shrugged. "And I'm not afraid of the gods, least of all these little Roman ones." He dumped the meat on the floor and began cutting it up. "It may be their city, but Caratacus has seen us burn this place. We're stronger than them."

Sesithacus made a sign to avert ill-luck and watched the butchery in silence. After a short time more Sanagi came in, two heavy jugs in his hands, held as if they were as light as feathers.

"Water," he said, putting one down. "Wine."

"Did you steal those from the taverna on the corner?" Februus said, still chopping and slicing.

"No," Sanagi said. "The one three streets over."

"Good," Februus said. "Then I can have this cooked in the nearest one while Sesithacus goes out and gets a brazier so we can cook in here from now on." He grinned over his shoulder at Sesithacus. "I stole the money to have it cooked as well."

"Give me some money," Sesithacus said, holding out a hand.

"Just make them give you what you want," Februus said.

Sesithacus stayed there, his hand outstretched, fixing his mind firmly on the fact that he wanted money. Februus shivered, his hand going to a pouch tied on his belt before he shook himself and grinned broadly.

"You're getting better at that. A man who didn't know you can hear the thoughts of others wouldn't think of fighting you." He fumbled with the pouch, and tossed over a few coins. "Here. You didn't make me give them to you, I chose to."

"That's what you think," Sesithacus said, closing his fist tight around the coins. He didn't want to spend them, he just wanted to _have_ them. He stood and stretched before heading for the door. "Make sure you get some onions to go with the meat." By the time he came back carrying a brazier, with a child behind him carrying wood, Februus had returned, and the room smelled enticingly of fried meat and onions. Sesithacus tossed a few strips of the meat and a handful of bread to the child, who fled down the stairs, eating as he went.

"You paid him?" Februus said, amused.

Sesithacus shrugged. "Bread's too pricey for boys like that at the moment, and we know what it's like to be hungry." He dropped down beside Caratacus, who was looking at the meat with something like appetite. "Have some," he said. "You need to build up your strength again." Caratactus took a strip of meat and chewed carefully before swallowing. Sesithacus and the others watched with some interest, but he didn't throw it back up again. "It looks like you're going to live," Sesithacus joked, grinning at the scowl that came his way.

"Of course I'll live. I didn't have a vision of my death." Caratacus grimly ate a little more meat, then lay down again. "I'll be much stronger tomorrow and will be able to stand and walk properly by the day after tomorrow."

"And your sight?" Februus said quietly.

"It does well enough."

Sesithacus said nothing. It was bad enough that Caratacus was half-blind – if pushed too much the man would say nothing about the condition of his eyes, too proud to ask for help. He found the sole cup they possessed and mixed wine and water, thinking a sick man would do better than to drink strong wine. Caratacus levered himself up enough to sip it, while Sesithacus and Februus passed the wine jug between them. Sanagi held out a small, imperious hand and Februus passed the jug over as Sesithacus grinned. The boy was small and thin, and it was amusing how quickly his face went pink from the wine.

"It's not good for a child to take so much wine," he said evilly, and sniggered as Sanagi clutched the jug and took several more large swallows before handing it on. "You'll regret that in the morning."

"No," Sanagi said, cool and dignified, then hiccoughed. He scowled as they all laughed, even Caratacus. "You shouldn't mock me," he said, his skinny face showing more annoyance than usual.

"A man who's far from home should learn to laugh with friends," Februus said. "We should depend on each other in this foreign land, shouldn't we, Caratacus?"

"Yes," Caratacus said sleepily. "The Romans can't stand against us."

"You're not as far from home as I," Sanagi said. "I chose the wrong place." He looked unhappy enough to cry, and Sesithacus felt sorry to have laughed. He'd felt as miserable as the boy looked often enough. "The paths in hell were so dark and twisted," Sanagi said. "I should not have chosen the first door I found." Sesithacus snorted in amusement and decided there was little point in feeling sympathy for a mad boy.

"Better than being trapped," Februus said conversationally.

Sanagi looked at him hard, as if suspecting more mockery, but accepted the jug again peaceably enough. Sesithacus found himself no longer amused; Februus didn't take well to being the brunt of humour. He kept his face pleasant and wished, not for the first time, that he was far from all of them. Beside him, Caratacus made an odd, quiet sound. Sesithacus looked at him, puzzled, and saw his eyes lose focus. He wondered what it would be like to try and hear the Briton's thoughts at such a time, but did his best to hear nothing but the sounds his ears might hear. It was one thing for Caratacus, being almost a priest, to speak so blithely of the gods' purposes, but Sesithacus wanted as little of their attention as possible. He shifted away but not fast enough as Caratacus' hand seized his wrist.

"Tomorrow," Caratacus said, pulling himself into a sitting position. Sesithacus shuddered to hear the hollow timbre in his voice, "you will start our rise to better things." He came to himself all of a sudden, shivering and pale. "Damn this fever," he said, and peered in seeming surprise at his hand, still clamped on Sesithacus' wrist.

"What am I to do tomorrow?" Sesithacus said. "You said you wouldn't be better till the day after that – you know your Latin is better than mine, can't the task wait?"

"Let me sleep," Caratacus said. "I'll tell you later."

He slumped back down, rolled over and was asleep almost at once. Sesithacus looked at the others, happily eating and looking pleased they weren't the ones being told of mysterious tasks. He sighed, and took another piece of meat. There was no point in letting food go to waste just because his appetite was gone.

 **_   
_ **

 

* * *

  
It was at least not raining. Sesithacus loitered by a market stall heaped with vegetables until the woman behind it grew suspicious and shooed him off muttering about foreign thieves. He ignored her loftily. He was a better thief than she could imagine, he thought, and was immediately shamed. If his father knew he had taken pride in such a thought – there was no point in such outmoded views, he told himself sternly. He had no family, no home any more. _Why couldn't you have let me be normal?_ he thought, unsure to which god he addressed his complaint. His misery grew and made the whole world seem grey and dull to him.

"Here, lad," a voice said.

He looked to the side to see the baker by whose stall he now stood holding out a cake. "It's free," the man said. "You look as sad as my son did when his wife died."

Sesithacus took the cake carefully. It was yesterday's bake and wasn't very fresh, but the man could still have sold it, he supposed. He concentrated and heard in the man's thoughts an answering unhappiness and dullness in the day. Perhaps he had _made_ the baker sad, he thought. That was a useful skill, Caratacus would say.

"I lost all my family," he said, letting the lie that they had died creep from his mind to the baker's.

"That's hard, even for a foreigner," the man said, and gave him a fresher cake to go along with the stale one.

Sesithacus wandered away, eating the cakes and feeling much more friendly towards Romans. His good mood lasted as long as it took for him to finish eating, when a hand landed on his shoulder and he was spun around.

"I've been watching you," his assailant said. He was perhaps forty and clearly unfit but the two men with him were younger and looked eager for violence. "You've been hanging round all morning."

"I'm looking for work," Sesithacus said. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Work, is it?" The man looked him up and down, sneering. Sesithacus felt embarrassed, wishing he had not obeyed Caratacus by scrubbing himself and putting on the clean tunic Februus had acquired the previous night. He was too clean, of course he didn't look like a labourer. "You're too awkward-looking to be a cut-purse. Who's your pimp?"

"My what?" Sesithacus said blankly. "I don't know that word."

"This is my place, you understand? You pay _me_ to be in this square. Who is he? Don't expect me to believe a barbarian fool like you is working by himself."

"The man you give the coins to," one of the younger men said loudly and slowly, accompanying his words with a gesture that made his meaning clear. "The coins you get for men fucking you."

" _What?_ " Sesithacus yelled in outrage, and punched him before the thug's nasty grin had a chance to turn back into a scowl. The other thug grabbed at him and staggered back as Sesithacus broke his nose. It felt good to fight. No one could blame him for responding to such an insult, he thought, ignoring the respectable plebeians scurrying out of range while complaining loudly about both criminals and barbarians. _Criminals_ , Sesithacus thought past the fog of rage. _Damn_. He'd be _late_. He turned and sprinted away, the pursuing footsteps quickly falling behind. He came back to the vegetable seller's stall just as the litter with red curtains Caratacus had described came into view. As he'd been told, a thief dashed forward suddenly, reaching through the curtains to snatch something before leaping back. Sesithacus put on a last burst of speed, his heart pounding with exertion, and managed to trip the man up. The thief rolled over and came up with a knife in his hand. He seemed slow and clumsy as Sesithacus hit him twice, once in the face and once in the belly. He fell, and stayed down with the encouragement of a sharp kick to the kidneys. Sesithacus grabbed the golden necklace from the ground and turned, calm and harmless, to hold it out to the litter-carriers.

"Your lady's necklace," he said.

They gaped at him, then set down the litter. As the world seemed suddenly to return to its normal speed he realized the woman in the litter had not even finished her first scream of alarm.

"Where did you –" one started, then grabbed the necklace. "Mistress," he said, turning to the curtains, "Mistress, a young man stopped the thief –"

Sesithacus heard running footsteps and moved aside as his previous acquaintances rushed up. They seemed as slow as the thief, in fact as slow as the litter carriers into whom they ran headlong, and the crowd enjoying the show.

"That swine had friends!" Sesithacus yelled, kicking one as he blundered past. "They have knives!" He hid a grin as an excitable woman in the crowd screamed she could see the blades and the litter carriers took short heavy staves from their belts and laid into the surprised thugs who turned and fled. Their boss came puffing up in their wake, took one look at the situation and slipped away in the crowd. The world seemed to slow down once more, and Sesithacus thought hard about how grateful the litter carriers should be to have had such a fine comrade in arms as him. One by one they looked at him with lessening suspicion, till a female voice made one of them scurry to attend his mistress.

"My mistress wants to speak to you," he said, straightening up.

Sesithacus bent to look through the pretty red curtains. The woman within looked at him appraisingly and fearlessly, though the force with which she clutched her returned necklace let him know she'd had a fright sure enough. She looked rich, and though old enough to be his mother had the youthful appearance of one wealthy enough to stay out of the sunlight and avoid hard work.

"You stopped the thief who tore this from my throat and helped fight off his accomplices," she said. "I should reward you." She took up a little purse, and Sesithacus smiled winningly.

"Lady," he said. "I couldn't let a woman be so mistreated. I'm new to the city, me and my friends, and we need work. We would make good guards - a word from you to gain us a position would be reward enough."

He looked in her eyes and pushed on her with all his might the thought that he'd be the very best of bodyguards, and that he was exotic enough to make other rich people wish they had a guard as distinctive. She looked a little confused, then nodded.

"Yes," she said slowly. "Come with your friends to my house this afternoon. My servants will tell you the address." She looked more awake then, saying quickly, "What a terrible thing to have happened. I don't know what the city is coming to. They must have marked my passage this way before – my piety is well-known and I often come this way to visit the temples."

"It's disgraceful," Sesithacus said solemnly, and bowed his head respectfully to hide the smile as she dismissed him and was carried away.

  


* * *

" – and then she said they must have noticed her pious visits to temples, but she was thinking that from now on she must take another route to visit her lover!" Sesithacus laughed.

Caratacus grinned, his face looking younger and less care-worn. "They're all whores, these Roman women," he said. "We knew how to deal with them when we took Londinium." He stood up carefully, and leaned heavily on his staff. "I'd be stronger tomorrow – it cannot be helped, we must be at our best today. We mustn't look too down on our luck." He pointed at the cleaner clothes Februus had stolen. "Give me the russet-coloured one, it looks like it'll fit best."

"It's a pity he couldn't have found us some new cloaks too," Sesithacus said, handing it over and watching as Caratacus pulled it on and pulled his belt tight so the tunic didn't look too large. "The lady won't be impressed by your disreputable British rag."

Caratacus prodded at his cloak, lying abandoned and filthy on the floor, with the end of his staff. "It is disreputable," he said. "But I'll be sick for longer if I get drenched."

"The rain's stopped," Sesithacus said. "It's quite mild now."

"It'll rain," Caratacus said, bending down to grab the cloak. He looked a little dizzy as he straightened, but hid it well enough as he swung the cloak round his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his hair, putting it in some kind of order, and smoothed down his moustache neatly. "The rest of you, get ready," he said commandingly.

"You _are_ feeling better," Februus muttered, kicking his own filthy tunic aside and pulling on one marginally cleaner. He stared down at his legs. "Are you _sure_ trousers would stand out? We're going to freeze."

"It's not so bad," Sesithacus said loftily. "Of course if I had knock-knees I might be reluctant to show them in public too." Februus ignored him, which was probably as well, he thought. "Come on, Sanagi," he said. "You won't impress anyone dressed like that." The boy picked up the remaining tunic reluctantly, then with a sigh of resignation stripped off his strange clothes and pulled it over his head. He looked smaller than ever enveloped in a tunic meant for a grown man, and submitted silently to Februus belting it and tucking up a fold so that it didn't reach almost to his ankles.

It _did_ rain. Sesithacus took Caratacus' arm and made sure he didn't slip in the mud. As they got nearer their destination Caratacus pulled away and looked about him as if he could see everything, before striding at their head, sure and steady on his feet. His staff looked less like something a half-blind man needed and more like an emblem of state.

"You'll make yourself sick again," Sesithacus said.

"We want to be employed, not laughed at," Caratacus said. "I can rest later. For the moment, let us appear at our best – and let us for the time being appear modest." He stopped in front of a door, looking at it as if he recognized it, then walked on along to blank wall to a plainer, wider doorway, lifted his staff and rapped upon it sharply. "When she sees our worth we can demand to walk in the front door," Caratacus said. After a few moments the door opened just enough for a man of middle years to look out. "Your mistress expects us," Caratacus said, his tone suggesting that any view to the contrary was impossible.

Sesithacus looked closely at the man, thinking of how grateful the woman had been, how of course she expected her saviour and his friends to arrive at her door, and how foolish it would be to go against her wishes. The man's eyes widened, as if he had only now remembered something important and was giving thanks to his god that he had avoided trouble. He stepped back, and let them through the door. Men at work in the yard looked at them, seeming glad of the excuse to stretch their backs for an instant.

"Wait here," he said, and ducked through a door into the house.

They stood under the eaves, trying to avoid as much rain as possible as the servants peered at them and whispered behind their hands. Sesithacus kept an eye on Caratacus, hearing what seemed to be an exhausted sigh in the other man's mind.

"Are you all right?" he said quietly.

"Don't let me fall over, Sanagi," Caratacus said, and swept a lazy, insolent smile over everyone in the yard. It looked good, Sesithacus thought, considering the man couldn't be seeing more than blurs of colour. Sanagi stepped up behind them, touching Caratacus with the very tip of one finger. He seemed to steady, and not look quite as ready to fall over. "Here we go," Caratacus muttered, and a moment later a richly-dressed slave strode into the yard, followed by the doorkeeper.

"The mistress is glad for your aid," the man said, his eyes fixing on Sesithacus, "But does not need your service. She gives you silver –"

"Bad fortune will attend your lady if she does not accept our service," Caratacus said loudly. "Is it not the case that you have persuaded her against us, Iasios? Why do you hate your mistress so?" He smiled as the man stopped dead, looking at him. "I am a soothsayer," he said, "We Britons are a prophetic race. I tell you, your lady's fortune depends on our service."

"I don't hate my mistress," the man – Iasios – said quickly. His eyes flicked for a moment to a window set high in the wall. "She just doesn't need a bunch of ragtag beggars from the gods know where –"

"Britain," Caratacus said sweetly. "And other places." He swept the staff around him, as if drawing a circle in the air. "Get me a name, for the love of the gods," he muttered to Sesithacus.

"The man in the corner," Sesithacus said quietly. "He's called Gaius in this house, he's sick. I think it's much the same as ails you."

"Gaius!" Caratacus yelled, stopping dead with his staff outstretched and pointing at a sweating man who looked as if he'd die from fright, "Good news! You shall recover in three days." He laughed as the man staggered off as fast as he could.

"You remember my skill, how I fought for your lady," Sesithacus said, recognizing at last one of the litter bearers among the slaves that now crowded into the yard to witness the show. "My friends here are of equal worth – Caratacus here can tell you the fortunate days on which to undertake any business, Februus has never been defeated in combat, Sanagi likewise." He knew he'd lost them when several of the men began to laugh.

"That barely-weaned little boy? He fights babes in their mothers' arms, does he?" one of the litter bearers snorted.

Sanagi stepped forward. "Your pox-ridden bitch of a mother," he said in his cultured little voice, "is a whore who sucks donkeys' pricks for sport." He smiled a thin, sharp smile as the man turned purple with anger and marched towards him, yelling about treating a whoreson brat to respect his elders. Sesithacus felt, rather than heard, the shock run round the crowd as the man flew head over heels to land with a heavy thud on his back. He wasn't sure if Sanagi had actually touched his opponent, or merely feigned doing so, but all around him he heard the thoughts of others, like fluttering birds, saying over and over that a little child had bodily thrown a full-grown man twenty feet. "Perhaps," Sanagi said mildly, "he would fight better if his mother _were_ here to hold him?"

"Nice," Februus said, pursing his lips in appreciation. "I wonder if he can throw a man farther?"

"You ask him," Sesithacus said, hiding a shudder. He looked at the awe-struck faces and felt better, stronger and for a moment powerful, not like a leaf swirling out of control on the surface of his life's course. _See our worth_ , he thought, hard as a spear point, up at the window to which Iasios had glanced. Nothing moved in the yard for minutes more, till a girl in a green dress rushed out of the door, breathless and self-important.

"The mistress says bring them into the house," she gasped, her eyes bright with excitement.

  


* * *

The room which Fabiola, their mistress, had given them was the greatest of improvements over the damp, cold room at the top of the insula. At last, Sesithacus thought, it seemed that they would have the life Caratacus had promised. The shutters did not leak; the pallets on the floor were thick enough for comfort, and spread with warm blankets. A box in the corner held their spare tunics – Sesithacus hugged the thought of having a _spare_ tunic to himself. The floor itself was swept every day by one of the slaves. It was like a palace. Even their whims were indulged, he thought, wandering out into the hall, where Sanagi was directing a bewildered slave with a paint brush.

"It's cheerful, at least," Sesithacus said, as the doorframe got its second bright coat of paint.

"Entrances should be red," Sanagi said firmly, pointing to the top of the frame. "You missed a spot. Be neater!"

The slave sighed and kept on painting. Sesithacus laughed and strolled away, out of the house and into the yard. Februus was there, naked despite the cold, dousing himself with water. Sesithacus found his gaze drawn, as always, to the scars. They were old and faded, despite Februus being so young.

"Am I pretty enough for you?" Februus asked drily, reaching for a cloth to dry himself with.

"There was peace all my life," Sesithacus said, his eyes tracing a raised, white scar that curved across the side of Februus' ribs. "I never went into battle," he said, ignoring the contemptuous look he got. "What was it like, fighting the Romans?"

"They die the same way any man does," Februus shrugged. He pulled on his tunic and arranged it more neatly than Sesithacus would have expected. "I'd have killed more if Caratacus hadn't kept me from the last battle. He said it was hopeless and we should get a move on if we wanted to catch a boat for Gaul." He grinned, and looked barely more than a boy. "I hadn't even heard of Gaul before that, Britain seemed foreign enough for me."

"Why did you go with him?" Sesithacus asked. "Why didn't you go home to Hibernia? Or stay there in the first place, for that matter?"

"Why did you go with him?" Februus said.

"You were ready to kill me, I seem to remember," Sesithacus said.

"I'm persuasive like that," Februus said, and his grin was a lot less boyish. "I went with him because he sees clear enough for a blind man, and I was in his country because my own was tired of war. All the island at war, and then they make peace? I had more killing in me."

" _All_ your country was at war?" Sesithacus said suspiciously. "Against the Romans?" Even in his grandfather's most exciting stories not all of Germania had fought the legions.

"All it takes is a determined woman," Februus laughed. "The same as in Caratacus' land. The Romans, though, they were a new thing I found in Britain."

"What was your war about?" Sesithacus said. It was rare that Februus would talk about himself, and the knowledge might prove useful.

Februus opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shook his head and laughed. "You really wouldn't believe me," he said, and gave Sesithacus a clap on the shoulder that knocked him sideways, before walking off, still chuckling. Sesithacus shook his head, then drew a bucket of water from the barrel, thinking he would follow Februus' example and wash. The shock of cold water on his head shook away all the thoughts he could hear from the household, leaving him in pleasant, shivering silence. He pulled his tunic on again and found Caratacus perched upon an old broken down bench, watching him, a fold of his new cloak drawn over his head in a way Sesithacus had seen a Roman priest dressed.

"Where have you been?" Sesithacus said, wrinkling his nose. "You smell like a girl."

"While you wash out here in cold water," Caratacus said smugly, "I washed in heated water scented with rose petals and dried myself with fine, warm cloths. I was with the lady of the house."

Something in his voice made Sesithacus pause. "When you say you were with her –" he started.

Caratacus winked.

"You _had_ her?" Sesithacus said, louder than he'd intended. The thoughts in Caratacus' mind were clear and vivid.

"I told you Roman women were whores. Keep your voice down." Caratacus laughed, a thin, unpleasant sound. "Don't sound so astonished or I shall be insulted. It's my eyes that are failing, nothing else." He straightened, and put a hand upon Sesithacus' shoulder. "Don't worry," he said in a low voice. "By the end of the week, you'll have had her too. She scratches."

"Does this serve any purpose?" Sesithacus said. "Is it needed to keep our place here? She's as old as my _mother_ , Caratacus."

"We'll be here only as long as it takes to find something better," Caratacus said. "And why should we not use the Romans for our amusement? That's what the world is to them." He looked up at the sky. "Are there birds? I told her I wanted to go out to observe the flight of birds."

"I'll take you out if you like," Sesithacus said, thinking he'd be glad to be away from the house and any thoughts its mistress might be harbouring about him. "Not all of us hate the Romans," he added. "They've done nothing to me."

"Are you outside the world, then?" Caratacus asked. "For they won't stop till they have eaten the whole world. Come on, let's get out of here and watch the birds wheel in the sky. We can discuss what we do next."

"You want to discuss that with me? Not with Februus?" Sesithacus said.

"Of course," Caratacus said. "You see the present clearly, I see the future – Februus sees other things."

"And Sanagi?" Sesithacus said, feeling a thread of warmth that he should be the one to help fix the course of their actions.

"Who knows?" Caratacus shrugged. "He's happy with his paint at the moment, leave him be." He laid a hand on Sesithacus's shoulder again, as a man would with a friend. Sesithacus knew it would not look like a half-blind man needing support. He said nothing, seeing no need to call Caratacus' pride into question, and walked with him out into the streets, seeking a place from where he could describe the flights of birds.

  


* * *

Their mistress showered them with riches, and praised their skills, their looks and their prophecies to all her friends. Caratacus warned of thieves who would creep over the wall in the night, Sesithacus went to find likely ruffians into whose minds he could put the idea that the house was unguarded and rich, Februus waited patiently and slaughtered them. Caratacus foretold lucky days on which to do business, Sesithacus listened to the thoughts of the men with whom the master of the house traded and passed the knowledge back to Caratacus, whose skill at ferreting out trustworthy and untrustworthy deals became famous. Fabiola, who was it seemed a law unto herself, had by now slept with them all but Sanagi, who she treated as a decorative pet. Sesithacus looked at the cool, contemptuous half-smile on Sanagi's face sometimes and wondered how it was she could stroke his smooth, young cheek and not see what he thought of everything about him. Still, it was nothing to him, he decided. He had _three_ tunics now besides the one he chose to wear on any day, and a cloak of thick, green wool that had been chosen to set off the colour of his hair. The sandals on his feet were still new enough to rub blisters into his flesh, but he managed well enough once he wrapped his feet in strips of cloth. Most important, he had warm comfortable shelter and had food enough even for a man who'd not so long before thought he would starve. He would be happy, he thought, to stay in the house forever, if only the others would see the sense of not risking what they had gained.

"There isn't enough killing in this house," Februus said, as Sesithacus bent to blow out the lamp.

"That's not so bad," Sesithacus said, looking over his shoulder.

"Maybe for someone who's sat on his arse all his life," Februus said sourly. "Perhaps I should slaughter everyone under this roof."

"No," Caratacus said. "We'll go from here soon, Februus, and your skills will be more in demand. Maybe you will like that too, Sanagi."

The boy didn't look up from where he knelt, picking over a dish of sweetmeats, arranging them in some pattern that made sense only to him. Sesithacus took a breath.

"Why don't we stay? I wouldn't mind staying here," he said. "I'm happy enough."

"We'll need you," Caratacus said, as if that was enough to stop any more talk on the matter.

"Don't go against him," Februus said. "I might get annoyed, and then I can do things I later regret."

"Your threats aren't as impressive as they were when I was near dead with hunger and misery," Sesithacus said. "I've found I can do more than most people, and I would not be the easy prey you think."

"What is this talk of prey?" Caratacus said as Februus threw back his blanket and rose to a crouch. "We're friends and partners in this. Februus, it's only natural that Sesithacus shouldn't want to give up the good things we have now. Sesithacus, it's right that Februus should also get what he wants. We'll have a better position than this, and there will be killing in plenty in our future."

"So you say –" Sesithacus started.

"You are always so argumentative," Sanagi said, his eyes still on the sweetmeats. "I have never known you to simply take advice or do as you are asked, uncomplaining."

"Who asked you, brat?" Sesithacus said. "You don't know me at all, you poor mad creature."

"Do I not?" Sanagi said, looking up. He rose from his knees to his feet in a smooth, easy movement. "I know you better than you do yourself," he said, drifting closer. "I know," he said, stepping so close that Sesithacus took first one and then another involuntary step back, "that you are afraid of a poor, mad, lost, little boy." He spun on his heel and went back to his game of arranging the sweets.

Sesithacus laughed, the sound hollow even in his own ears. Caratacus' grip on his staff was tight enough to make his knuckles white, and Februus was looking at Sanagi with the odd intensity that he sometimes had. Sesithacus carefully turned back to the lamp, and blew out the wicks.

"A clever fox knows the difference between a henhouse and an eyrie," Sanagi said in the darkness.

"Sparrows shouldn't think themselves eagles just because their feathers are much the same colour," Sesithacus retorted. There was a silence, then,

"You always were insolent," Sanagi said, peaceably enough.

Februus started laughing, joined by Caratacus. Sesithacus laughed too, the tightness about his heart receding at the pleasure of sharing amusement with others. There was even the lightest snuffle from Sanagi's pallet, as if the boy had stuffed his blanket into his mouth to avoid anything as undignified as actual merriment.

"We'll find an even better place than this," Caratacus promised, when their laughter had run down.

"As long as we still have enough to eat," Sesithacus said, finding himself happier then at the thought, and more reluctant than he'd have thought possible to lose their company. What use would his position in the house be, he thought, if he didn't have the others with whom he could laugh at the foibles of their employers?

"Such little ambitions," Caratacus said teasingly. "We'll do much better than that."

  


* * *

  
The master of the house, Paulinus, had grown rich on the sale of oils, both the olive oil Sesithacus had reluctantly become accustomed to in all his food and the lamps, and the perfumed oils with which the lady of the house allowed her favoured servants to scent the olive oil for their bodies. Her husband ignored such extravagances as indeed he ignored all her outrageous actions.

"A queen would wear this, outside Rome," Caratacus said, putting down the little bottle of attar of roses that Fabiola had given him as a present for foretelling embarrassments for a woman she hated. "And here it's just a plaything." He watched Sanagi sniff at it cautiously and then take it to his side of the room where he stoppered and unstoppered it, smelling it with pleasure on his face. "Don't spill it," Caratacus said. "We might be glad of the money we could get for selling it."

"What? Why?" Sesithacus asked, sitting up on his pallet. "Are we likely to become poor again?"

"It's not a vision," Caratacus said. "Just caution."

"I killed a man last night," Februus said from where he lay on his pallet, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. "It won't be laid at my door, don't worry. I dropped what was left of him in the sewers."

"We'll be gone from here soon," Caratacus said, as he'd said every night for a week. "Just take care no one sees you at such work, Februus."

"It had better be soon," Februus grumbled, "before I kill all of Rome."

"The dead always try to eat up the living, but there are enough born every day to outnumber them," Sanagi said.

"Do you have to say such things as that?" Sesithacus snapped, unsettled at the thought of poverty claiming him once more.

"It's true," Sanagi said. He put the stopper firmly in the little bottle and pushed it aside, seeming to prefer staring at the ground to his previous activity.

"It might be unlucky," Sesithacus muttered, feeling the others look at him. "Look, I didn't mean to upset him –"

"Tomorrow," Caratacus said, cutting across him. "Everyone be in the house, wearing clean clothes and looking worth their hire." He sat bolt upright, muttering to himself. Sesithacus looked at the others, who did nothing but watch Caratacus carefully. He sighed, thinking he wished that such a duty would fall to other besides him, and moved to sit beside the Briton, supporting him against his shoulder. Sometimes Caratacus' visions came and went with little trouble, sometimes they left him weak, or cast him down and made him shudder. This one seemed easy enough on him, though he leant against Sesithacus when it left him. "I want to look at the stars," he said.

"You won't be able to see them," Sesithacus said.

"Someone will have to be my eyes," Caratacus said, impatient.

Februus lay back. "I'm no good with just one eye," he said.

Sanagi pointedly pulled his blanket over him. Sesithacus didn't bother complaining, just stood up and offered a hand. "Come on," he said. "Let's go and look at the stars."

It was quiet on the roof, once he'd made sure Caratacus wasn't going to slip. He sat, an arm about the other man to make sure no vision could take him unaware and tumble him down to break his neck, and described what he could see in the night sky.

"Are you still unhappy about leaving your village?" Caratacus asked suddenly.

"Yes," Sesithacus said. "I never wanted to hear what people thought, I never wanted my sister marked the same way. I never wanted to find myself starving on the roads. Being ordinary was enough for me." He stretched, easing muscles tired from sitting in the cold. "You wouldn't have been ordinary if your land hadn't been defeated. You don't know what it's like for me."

"The Romans wouldn't have let you be ordinary, even if you could have stayed," Caratacus said. "Every year your people would have been subject to more and more Roman customs and Roman ideas until one day they would make another war and you would find you didn't want to fight them, that you just wanted the soft things their merchants could sell you, that you were just a Roman yourself. And the ordinary people you now think you could be like, they would fight against _you_ and you'd despise them for being backward barbarians."

"How many of your family did that war of yours cost you?" Sesithacus asked.

Caratacus ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. "All of them," he said. "My family, my tribe, my training. All gone, or what's left is just the remnant that the Romans haven't yet destroyed or bought." He sat straight and still. "They've swept the priests of the gods and the sacred groves away wherever they've gone. I knew there'd be nowhere for a man like me, half-trained, half-blind and as good as dead as soon as one of the Romanised tribes felt like pointing me out to their masters. So I found Februus and made him take me away. Here I'm not a rebel, just a curiosity they don't believe could cause them any harm. I will exact a price from Rome herself."

"Are you really going to burn it down?" Sesithacus asked almost soundlessly, his lips against Caratacus' ear.

"Sometimes the gods demand a very great sacrifice," Caratacus said, longing clear in his voice as though he'd seen a girl he loved. He patted Seithacus' leg clumsily. "But I am sorry about your sister."

"Let's go in," Sesithacus said. He saw again the priests taking his sister away, his father's hands so tight on his shoulders that Sesithacus had thought his bones would break, his mother wringing the hem of her cloak in her hands, over and over. "It's cold, let's go in."

He felt no warmer when he was lying in his bed.

  


* * *

"You look presentable," Caratacus said, squinting.

Sesithacus bowed mockingly. "Thank you. You look – prophetic."

"Good," Caratacus said, leaning on his staff and allowing a distant, moonstruck expression to cross his face.

"Don't overdo it," Sesithacus said. He looked at Februus. "You look ferocious."

Februus grinned. "We _are_ supposed to be bodyguards and exotic warriors."

Sesithacus turned to Sanagi. "Hmm." He and Caratacus advanced on the boy, straightening his tunic and retying his sandals.

Caratacus seized a comb from his bed and dragged it through Sanagi's hair. "Better," he said.

"Adorable," Sesithacus said in an over-sweet voice. "Like a rich man's catamite." He laughed at the look the boy gave him. "Charm us a new and richer patron, Sanagi."

Sanagi turned away with grave dignity, and held out his hand. The attar of roses floated gently into his grasp.

"Don't throw it over Sesithacus," Caratacus said.

The boy raised an eyebrow, then gently dabbed a little of the expensive scent on himself. "Am I not more worthy of adoration now?" he said. "Let one of your rich men lay a hand on me; I shall break him in pieces."

"No time for jokes," Caratacus said, though Sesithacus did not think Sanagi was joking. "Let's go and make a good impression upon our new employer." He marched from the room, the others in his wake. "A man has come to speak with Paulinus," he muttered to Sesithacus as they neared the garden central courtyard, "The gods haven't made it all clear to me – does he need money?"

Sesithacus peered at the man talking with Paulinus in the garden, and listened as hard he might till the man's thoughts crept into his mind. "Yes," he said quietly. "He wants to borrow money for his daughter's dowry, and thinks Paulinus should be honoured to lend to such an important man as him." He leant closer, to whisper in Caratacus' ear, "If he needs to borrow money, why do you want to work for him?"

"He is a stepping stone, no more," Caratacus said. "Silvius!" he said loudly, walking forward. "I have a message from the gods for you."

"A British soothsayer," Paulinus said, trying to wave him away. "A fancy of my wife's –"

"This is a word concerning Sulpicius," Caratacus said over him. "You'll want to hear it privately."

Sesithacus watched him walk, sure and steady, out into the garden, and murmur to the man he called Silvius. Caratacus' face was calm and a little sorrowful, as if he regretted being the bearer of bad news. Listening to the thoughts he could hear, Sesithacus found himself wanting to laugh as Caratacus spoke sadly of how the planned-for marriage would come to naught, and shame would fall on the family when the bridegroom would repudiate the bride for being pregnant by another man. He fought to keep a grave expression upon his face but succeeded only in disguising a laugh as a sneeze as Paulinus' pique at being excluded from the conversation grew greater and greater. Finally Caratacus walked back, slow and solemn.

"He'll be back," he said in a low voice and winked. Behind him Silvius took his abrupt leave and all but ran from the house.

The next day Silvius was back, just as Caratacus had said, and spent hour after hour asking after his future and the fortunes of his family. By the end of the week, Sesithacus and the others were packing their belongings and finding themselves considerably more weighed down than the state in which they had entered the house. The lady Fabiola's wailings and complaints about their ingratitude were grating, but Sesithacus consoled himself with the thought that he would be free of them soon enough, and Februus seemed in a good enough mood not to commit mass murder before they left.

"Ingrates! To abandon this house when we have given you everything!" Fabiola cried for what seemed the twentieth time. "Who shall tell us fortunate days or protect us now?"

"You can afford other guards," Februus said in his clearest Latin.

"None like you! My husband shall give you more money –"

"We must go," Caratacus said. "But let us leave you with news of your fortune. You'll bear a son."

She stopped wailing and looked deeply worried. "My husband –" she started. "My husband will be pleased," she said. It didn't sound as dignified as Sesithacus thought she'd hoped for.

"Perhaps," Caratacus said, with a nasty smile. "Who can say?" He gestured and the others picked up their bags of goods and walked after him, leaving the house behind without another look.

  


* * *

Among the vulgarities that Roman nobles avoided, Sesithacus found, were overly comfortable accommodations for servants. He surveyed the room in which he and the others slept in annoyance. It was smaller and draughtier than he'd become used to, and the slaves had nosily examined their belongings, he was sure. Nothing had been stolen, Caratacus and Sanagi between them had seen to that - Caratacus by singling out a girl who would, he later said, have stolen from them soon and telling her of the curses he'd call down on her head, and Sanagi by breaking the fingers of a lad who most assuredly had not been merely laying out their clothes to dry as he'd claimed. Still, the new cloaks and trousers they'd been given were of good thick wool, and in patterns that reminded Sesithacus of home. Their new employer, it seemed, wished for his acquisitions to look their part, even if he couldn't tell the difference between British and German weaving. His guard dogs, however, were British enough, great shaggy brindled creatures that looked as if they would have no difficulty in bringing down a man. Such dogs were fashionable, the doorkeeper had told them cheerfully. Caratacus had spent some days wooing the beasts, but had all but avoided them since the day Sesithacus had found him talking to the animals in his own language in a voice thick with tears. Sesithacus wished he had said what was in his heart, that it wasn't wrong for a man to weep over his lost life and family, or that it was hard to be the gods' instrument of vengeance. It had been cowardly simply to leave, and they had never spoken of it after.

"Get up," Sesithacus said, prodding Februus with his foot. "We must look exotic for the party."

"I'm a bad dancer and a worse singer," Februus grumbled. "I don't want to stand around and be laughed at by Romans."

"Sesithacus and I will be the ones putting on the show," Caratacus said, coming in. "We'll save the things you and Sanagi can do for another day." He dumped strands of ivy on the floor. "Do you think I'll look more what they expect if I wind this around my staff?"

"Have you no shame?" Sanagi said. "Your gods speak to you – why do you need to pretend for the eyes of others?"

"We all pretend," Caratacus said. "But they'll see us as we really are when we're ready. Let me but play the druid for them well enough and they'll not see the truth of it till I'm standing over them, knife in hand." He sat, and began to carefully bind some of the leaves about the staff.

"Why don't you just strip naked and paint yourself blue?" Sesithacus said, recalling the thoughts of some of the slaves.

"There'll be time enough for that," Caratacus said, intent on his task. "We're not going into battle yet."

"When we do, will we have weapons proper for men?" Februus said, finally sitting up.

"This is the centre of the Romans' world," Caratacus said. "You can find anything if you look hard enough. You'll have your proper sword and spear." He climbed to his feet again. "Come along. We should go and be properly barbaric for the amusement of the guests."

Februus leapt to his feet and flung his cloak about him. "Perhaps they'll want to see us fight?" he said hopefully.

"Not tonight," Caratacus said. "Fortune-telling tonight." He shooed them out as if they were chicks, and grinned suddenly. "Our fortunes will really begin to be made this night," he said.

"How?" Sesithacus said, but Caratacus just laughed and walked ahead, his familiarity with the house making his steps sure. There was little chance to ask him what he meant, for Sesithacus found himself pressed into helping move a final few pieces of furniture, and then the guests were arriving. The evening was boring in the extreme – people looked at Sesithacus and the others and laughed at their appearance. At first Sesithacus thought they assumed that he and the others knew no Latin, then he realized they simply did not care, that he was an item to be assessed, just as were the new tables Silvius had bought. Februus paced along the sides of the rooms in which the guests chattered and laughed, while Sanagi amused himself by staring at caged songbirds as if he were alone in the house. Sesithacus, however, of necessity stayed within sight of Caratacus, slipping the secrets of passing guests into his mind so that convincing fortunes could be woven. Caratacus seemed untiring, telling women their lovers would obey them in all things, telling men their wives were chaste, foretelling fortunes to be made and ruin to be avoided. When he finally said he must rest and came to stand with Sesithacus it was clear that he was exhilarated and awaiting something.

"What is it?" Sesithacus said quietly.

"Soon, soon," Caratacus said.

"You told that woman she'd have a daughter," Sesithacus said, seeing he'd get nothing else till Caratacus was willing. "She'd have preferred to hear about a son."

"What's that to me?" Caratacus shrugged. "She really will have a daughter – and she'll remember me, and people will think, _There's a man who doesn't falsely tailor his prophecies to what people want to hear_. Only a few true prophecies are needed for it to be assumed they all are." He stiffened suddenly, and Sesithacus took his arm, thinking that a vision had seized him in truth, but Caratacus seemed as if the future had not taken hold of him too tightly. Sesithacus looked in the direction he stared and saw some young men had entered. Guests were drawing back and bowing their heads politely as the well-dressed man in the centre of the group held up his hands placatingly as if he were beseeching that no fuss be made. Slaves came up quickly to offer food and wine, the other men in the group deferring to their leader, who took a goblet and toasted Silvius, laughing and exclaiming over the quality of the wine.

"The future is upon us," Caratacus said, his voice light and merry.

"Why?" Sesithacus said. "Who is that?"

Caratacus faced him, a pleasant smile upon his lips though his eyes were full of something darker. "That, Sesithacus, is the man who sought to destroy all I value and who cast my land into a war in which the only honour finally left to the queen was to slay her children to spare them further shame. That is the man who will beg to pay us for our services." He turned away, staring avidly across the room again as if his sight were as clear as any man's.

"That is Nero, the emperor of the Romans."


End file.
